Falling Slowly
by Relik
Summary: AU season 2. Katara finds that it is difficult to hate someone when you know them, and harder still to hurt them when you are responsible for healing them. Zuko discovers forgiveness and understanding taste sweet, even coming from an enemy. Redemption and friendship. Rated for descriptions of injuries and abuse.
1. I Don't Know You

_Hello. Relik here. I haven't really written for the Avatar fandom, aside from two character study-ish things. This is a story-story, albeit a relatively short one (I anticipate 9 or 10 chapters). It investigates an alternate series of events, what might have happened had Iroh not been able to stop Azula's lightning on that ship at the start of season 2._

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><p><strong><span>Falling Slowly<span>**

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><p><strong>I. I Don't Know You<strong>

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><p><em>Zuko floated in a haze of fire and pain. Someone pulled at his arms, causing jagged bolts of agony to throb from his chest. His heels dragged; every jolt to them sent more pain lancing up his legs. He moaned, a cracked, wheezing sound.<em>

_ His arms were put down, quickly but gently, and hands touched his neck and cheek. "Prince Zuko!"_

Uncle_. Pain ate his words and all Zuko could do was moan again, feeling like he was caught in beach surf, waves of agony crashing against him again and again, pinning him down, drowning him. He couldn't even open his eyes._

_ He felt his uncle pulling at his clothes. There was a sick sort of rip from his chest, and a flare of new pain. Zuko couldn't help but cry out, and darkness washed over him._

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><p>Katara was tired, and had been tired since they left General Fong behind to pick up the wreckage of his folly. Though Katara put on a brave face for Aang and Sokka, she still had nightmares about the earth pressing against her. Fong had dropped her into an air pocket below his stronghold's courtyard, but there had been several lengths of stone for him to move her through before she reached it. In those long moments, Katara had been entirely surrounded by stone, unable to move, unable to breathe…<p>

She had to take a moment to force the air in her lungs out, and then dragged in a deep breath, to banish the phantom pressure of stone around her.

"I'm just saying, I think it'd be best if we headed toward Omashu right away. Bumi's your old friend; he'll definitely teach you earthbending, right?" Sokka was saying. He and Aang were walking behind her, trailing along as she wandered between the market stalls.

"I guess," Aang replied, pouting. He'd probably wanted to stop by some place that had some strange kind of animal he could play with. Katara tucked her latest purchase—some potato-carrots—into her bag and joined them where they were standing. She put a hand on Aang's shoulder.

"I bet training with Bumi will be a lot of fun," she said. "He doesn't seem like he's as… um… strict as Master Pakku."

Aang's lips tilted in a slight smile.

"Yeah! Bumi's great."

"Good! Then it's decided," Sokka said. "Let's get our supplies and head out."

Katara glanced at the coins left in her hand. Or rather, _coin_. A battered specimen of the very smallest denomination of coin lay in her palm, dull and tarnished. They wouldn't find anything they could afford for that much. They were out of money again. She sighed. "We've got everything already," she said. "Let's just go get Appa and get out of here."

"Wait, please," said a voice from the alleyway behind them. The trio spun, hands going to weapons or whipping up into bending stances.

And older man stood in the shadows of the alley, stocky, grey hair and beard, and a grim look in his amber eyes.

"You!" Katara, Sokka, and Aang exclaimed in unison, recognizing the Fire Nation man who had accompanied Zuko as the banished prince had chased them across the world.

He wasn't wearing Fire Nation robes or armor this time. Instead he just had a plain robe of undyed linen, trimmed in red. Rough clothes for someone who'd been traveling with a prince.

He spread his hands to show he wasn't intending an attack. His eyes were fixed on Katara.

"Please," he said, and there was nothing proud or strong in his voice. Not like the commanding tone he'd used against his countryman in the Spirit Oasis. "You were training at the North Pole. Did you learn waterbending healing?"

Katara blinked. "Why?"

The old man's expression tightened a little. Worry, Katara thought. "My nephew… he's badly hurt."

Katara went rigid. "What?! No! Do you really think I'd heal—"

"Katara, wait," Aang said. Katara gaped at him, but the monk was looking worriedly at the Fire Nation man.

"What happened?" he asked.

"We had a run-in with my niece," the old man said. He hesitated, then said lowly: "She struck him with lightning."

They stared at him, surprised. Finally, Katara said: "Yeah right! We're supposed to believe she could attack her brother?"

"Can and has," he replied. "This is not the first time Azula has hurt him."

Sokka and Katara traded looks. It was difficult to believe. Aang was silent, eyes downcast.

"Even if it's true," Sokka said, stepping in front of Katara and Aang, "why should we help you? You're our enemy!"

"You have fought many times against my nephew, haven't you?"

"Yes…" Sokka said warily. The old man pinned them with a look.

"And how many times have you been burned?"

"What?" Katara blurted, surprised. She heard Sokka take a sharp breath.

"In all the times you have fought against my nephew and his bending, how many times have you been burned?" the old man asked again, firmly.

"Never," Aang whispered. "None of us were ever burnt by Zuko."

"Aang," Katara hissed. He lifted pleading eyes to her.

"Katara. He tried to protect the Moon spirit," Aang gestured toward the old man. "And… and, I never told you, but… Remember when you guys were sick, and I went to get medicine? I… well, I was captured. By Zhao. And Zuko saved me."

"_What_?" Katara and Sokka said, Sokka's voice cracking. Aang shuffled uncomfortably. The old man watched, still and silent.

"I never told you guys 'cuz, well, I was afraid you'd be upset. It wasn't a big deal! I wasn't hurt, and I got those frogs for you guys…"

"Stop!" Sokka threw out a hand. "I thought we agreed never to mention that again!"

Katara chewed on her lip. "Aang…"

The monk's grey eyes locked on to her, huge and worried and hopeful. "Katara… I think we should help him…"

Katara squeezed her eyes shut. _But he chased us halfway around the world! He threatened Gran-Gran, scared everyone at home! He stole my necklace! He's the Firelord's son! He took you away and the Moon spirit _died_!_

So like Aang to be willing to look past all that.

"Aang, I don't know if this is a good idea," Sokka said, seriously.

"But he's never hurt any of us. He even helped, once!" Aang turned to the old man, who was watching their argument with an expression as stern as stone. "How badly is he hurt?"

"He will die without help," Zuko's uncle said. Katara felt cold and numb.

"Please, Katara. I think this is the right thing to do," Aang's voice was earnest.

"…Fine," she whispered. The relief and hope that bloomed quietly in Zuko's uncle's face made her look away.


	2. Words Fall Through Me

_Thanks to all those who reviewed last chapter; much appreciated!_

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><p><strong><span>Falling Slowly<span>**

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><p><strong>II. Words Fall Through Me<strong>

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><p>Zuko's uncle led them to a ramshackle old house, obviously abandoned, some distance from the village's outskirts. Half the roof had fallen in, but one room was still intact. It was to this room that he led them. Katara wrinkled her nose at the sour smell of illness lingering inside. She shot a look at the old man, which he met with the same dark expression that had been dominating his face since they'd run into him in the marketplace.<p>

"I had to get us away from Azula," he told her. "Unfortunately, that meant that Zuko's wounds didn't get seen to for hours. And that was hours of seawater, sand, and dirt. They're infected."

Katara took a deep breath—carefully through her mouth only—and bit her lip. Infection in a wound was not a trifle. No wonder he looked so grim. "Sokka, go get me water. A lot of it. Aang will you see if you can find me some beech-willow? I'll need the leaves, the bark, and the wood, if you can."

The boys did not argue and ran off. Katara looked at Zuko's uncle. "What should I call you?"

"I'm Iroh," he replied. "I will give you any help you need."

Katara nodded. "I need you to light some candles. I have to see the wounds well to heal them properly. I'll also probably need some fires later, and… And I want you to tell me exactly what happened, and when."

Iroh wasted no time in lighting the handful of candles scattered about the room. "It was two days ago," he said quietly. "Azula tried to arrest us as traitors. We fought, and Azula shot Zuko with lightning. It struck his chest at his right shoulder and exited his left foot. There are burns at both locations. I had to shock his heart back into an even beat. We—I ran, dragging Zuko. When I stopped, I cleaned everything as best I could, but…"

"Right," Katara said grimly. She knelt at Zuko's side.

Funny. She hated him, hated everything he'd ever done to them. She hated his strength—_didn't he ever give up?—_and his firebending and his arrogance. But he was none of those things right now. He lay on a thin blanket before her, breathing shallowly, skin flushed and damp with sweat, too thin. His eyes moved restlessly under his bruised lids and he shook slightly with tremors and shivers.

The wound on his chest was… a mess.

"His shirt was fused to the skin," Iroh told her, seeing her expression. "I tried to get most of the fabric out of the wound, but I don't have the materials I need to properly treat the wound and I think there may be some debris still in there."

"I'm going to debride the burn, anyway," Katara said. She pulled her water from her hip flask and gloved her hands with it. "It will hurt. I don't know how weak this fever's got him, but hold him down just in case."

Iroh bent over Zuko's head and clasped strong hands down on his shoulders, avoiding the wound. Katara pressed her hands to the burned, blistered, pus-oozing skin.

Zuko made a small, cracked sound of pain. Katara laved the wound with her water, removing the dead skin and tiny bits of fabric, and grains of sand, and the foulness of infection…

"Nngh," Zuko said, a near whine. He shifted weakly, twitching, trying to move away from the pain. His eyes opened, hazy and fever-bright. "No. Please…"

"I've got the water, Katara," Sokka said, overpowering Zuko's rasping whisper easily.

"Put it next to me," she said absently, attention on her task. She was peripherally aware of Sokka gagging slightly as he caught sight of the wound. The water was placed beside her, and Sokka retreated quickly. She dumped her current water—filled with bits of charred skin and detritus and pus—out the broken window, and swept up a new batch.

Zuko panted shallowly, teeth gritting as she applied the water to the wound again. "Father," he said brokenly. "_Please_. I am your loyal son!"

Iroh made a noise that Katara couldn't even begin to describe. When she glanced at him, she was shocked to find anguish in every line of his face, and tears running into his beard.

Zuko continued to beg his father for… something… until Katara finished with the burns and soothed cool water over his brow to try to lower his fever. Iroh sat unmoving at Zuko's other side, head bowed, holding his nephew's hand gently in his. Finally, Zuko was still and silent again, aside from a tremor in his fingers.

Katara stood and staggered out of the room to the packed dirt half circle in front of the decrepit hut where Sokka had built a campfire. He looked up when he heard her coming.

"Aang's not back yet," he informed her. "Do you want—Woah!"

Katara cut right past him and just managed to get to the bushes to throw up. After a moment, Sokka was kneeling next to her, a hand against her back. "Is… Are you okay?"

"Fine," Katara said shakily, and spat. "It's just… I've never seen… He's really hurt, Sokka."

Sokka was quiet, and Katara knew it was because he didn't know what to say to her. She hardly knew what she wanted him to say, either. She was supposed to hate Zuko. She was supposed to fight against him, keep him away from Aang. She wasn't supposed to be healing him, and she definitely wasn't supposed to be afraid he was going to die.

She didn't _like _violence. She didn't _like _seeing people hurt. And even though he was her enemy, Zuko was hurt and sick and she'd had to hurt him more and he couldn't even fight back like he was supposed to and he'd kept begging his father _no no please no_ and why would he do that? She was hurting him and maybe it was just the fever dreams, but it made her stomach feel like a ball of ice…

"Katara! I found—Is she okay?" Aang's voice was accompanied by a rush of air as he blew into camp. Katara looked up, seeing the concerned looks Aang and Sokka traded. She ignored them, straightening. Aang had a bundle of greenery in his arms.

"You got the beech-willow? Thanks, Aang," she said, forcing strength into her voice. He handed the bundle over, his forehead wrinkling in worry, distorting his arrow tattoo. He opened his mouth to say something, but Katara spun around and marched back into the hut before he made a sound.

Iroh was still sitting by Zuko attentively, wiping his nephew's brow with a damp cloth. Katara knelt by the water Sokka had brought—he'd filled their group's three large waterskins, and their cookpot. She'd used about half of what had been in the pot, and now she bent a stream from what remained into her empty hip flask.

Aang had collected some very fine beech-willow. Katara stripped off some of the inner bark and put it in the flask. She held it out without preamble. "Could you heat the water in here to boiling?"

Iroh took the flask, eyes tracing intelligently over her and the bundle of sticks and leaves in her lap. "Beech-willow bark tea?" he said, as he cupped one hand around the flask. Steam rose almost immediately from the open neck.

"Debriding the burns will have hurt. A lot. This will help," Katara said. "And it'll help with the fever, too."

She took the flask back and blew across the neck. The water cooled from boiling to warm. She held it back out to Iroh. "Can you get him to drink? At least half of it."

As he did so, Katara went outside to requisition a bowl from their supplies and to find a nicely shaped rock. When she came back, she settled down again and started stripping the leaves off the branches Aang had gathered, trying to ignore the softly murmured encouragements Iroh gave Zuko as he tipped the flask against his mouth.

She washed the rock she'd found, not wanting any dirt in the medicine she was going to make. Water and leaves were ground together in the bowl, the rock her pestle, until they were more or less a smooth paste. By then, Iroh had coaxed as much tea into Zuko as he could and had recorked the flask, setting it a careful distance between him and Katara.

Katara put the bowl next to it. "Put this on the burns," she said. "And in a couple hours, give him the rest of that tea."

Without waiting for a reply, she went to join her brother and Aang by their campfire outside.


	3. And I Can't React

_Why wouldn't the gAang airlift Zuko using Appa, find a healer, drop him off, and go on their merry way? I could write an essay detailing the issues that would arise with that, including but not limited to the problems with trying to move a very sick very injured person and whether or not you'd actually find a healer (let alone one who'd treat the Prince of the Fire Nation, let alone one that could actually do anything for a lightning-strike patient)... But that'd be too long, so I'll just say: that would hardly be an interesting story, now would it?_

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><p><strong><span>Falling Slowly<span>**

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><p><strong>III. And I Can't React<strong>

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><p>Katara knew she couldn't avoid touching Zuko forever. She was supposed to be healing him. While she could pawn off some tasks to his uncle—feeding him, putting cold compresses on him, applying the beech-willow paste—she was the only one who could waterbend. And he'd need more of her water healing.<p>

But touching him, feeling the heat of his fever, feeling his chest rise and fall with his breath… He was too human. He wasn't supposed to be human; he was the _enemy_. If she kept her distance, maybe she could remember that.

She gave their breakfast a particularly hard stir, scowling at the blandly colored jook as if it were personally responsible for the situation she found herself in.

"Is Zuko doing better?" Aang asked from behind her. Katara jumped, startled. Aang's tone and expression were all innocent concern. Katara suddenly wanted to yell at him. All this was _his_ fault! Almost as soon as she thought it, the feeling faded, leaving shame. Aang didn't deserve her anger. He was trying so hard to live by the philosophy the monks had taught him, a philosophy of peace, even though the Avatar spirit within him had no qualms about violence or killing. Maybe helping Zuko was how Aang was trying to atone for what had happened at the North Pole, and at Fong's stronghold.

"I think so," Katara replied presently. "I think his fever is a little lower, and his wounds look much better."

Aang beamed at her. "I knew you could heal him!"

"He's not healed yet," Katara mumbled, guiltily. She added some mushrooms to the jook and stirred. "Hey, Aang…?"

"Yeah?" he said when the silence dragged on a little too long. Katara kept her eyes on her cooking.

"Nevermind." She scooped jook into two bowls and walked into the hut like she was going into battle.

Iroh was awake, sitting tailor-style with a candle in front of him, its flame growing and receding with his breath. Firebending mediation. Katara eyed the flame distrustfully. She placed one bowl a fair distance away from the old man, and went to kneel beside Zuko, setting the second bowl to the side.

When she laid her hand against his forehead, checking his fever, he stirred slightly under her touch, his eyes opening. Katara could see, though, that they were unfocused, not truly seeing.

"Mom?" he whispered, then his eyes closed again and he subsided before Katara had even registered what he'd said. When she did, she snatched her hand from him as if burnt.

"How is he?" Iroh asked. Katara jerked her gaze up. The old man had shifted to face her; she wasn't sure how long he'd been watching or if he'd heard Zuko's childlike whisper.

"The fever's lower, but he's still delirious," she said stiffly. "He needs to drink more. And eat more. The fever's burning him away."

Ironic. A firebender undone by fire. It was a paradox. Like his scar.

Katara can't help but glance at it at the thought. It had been the first thing she'd noticed about him. A Fire Prince with half his face burned off. She hadn't thought you could burn a firebender. It was like drowning a waterbender… conceptually impossible.

Iroh cleared his throat, and Katara wrenched her gaze back to him. He had his bowl of jook in his hands. "Thank you," he said. He met her stare. "Thank you, for everything you are doing."

"I'm… I'm not doing it for _you_," Katara said harshly. She had to look away.

"Ah," Iroh said, not sounding particularly upset over the revelation, "but the fact remains, you are doing it."

Katara burned with anger and shame and frustration and confusion. She bent water out of the nearby supply almost savagely, though when it touched Zuko's skin it was gentle.

She soothed the water over him, his face, his arms, his chest—any bare skin—lowering the heat of his fever. He shivered at first with the cool touch, but soon his body relaxed and he let out a breath like a sigh. Katara couldn't believe she was doing this. The last time she'd seen Zuko, they'd been trying to kill each other.

_Except, according to his uncle, he was never trying. _ Katara swept the water away, taking with it the sweat and dirt that had been on Zuko's skin, and the dried bits of beech-willow paste.

Iroh's words were hard to believe; Zuko had been angry and loud and intimidating in all their interactions. Prince of the Fire Nation. Firebender. He hadn't _seemed _to be pulling his punches at all. But she had to face the fact that none of them had ever been burned by his flames. All they'd ever had were bruises and maybe some singed clothing.

Katara sank her hands into fresh water and pulled it out as her healing gloves. She laid them on the wound on Zuko's chest and the water glowed faintly. She frowned, feeling deeper into his skin and finding more damage than she had anticipated. She let the water tug her to where wrongness and hurt were, healing as she went. She repeated the process with his foot.

When she pulled her hands away, the water stayed, sunk into thirsty fevered tissue. The wounds looked less red, less angry.

She remembered when Zuko had her tied up against that stupid tree. He'd tried to make her a deal. _Give me the Avatar and I'll give you back your necklace, I'll let you go._ He could have just kept her; he must have known Aang and her brother would come for her and he could capture Aang then. Just like in the North Pole, the Spirit Oasis, when she'd been knocked unconscious and he'd just left her there when he could have finished the job and made sure she never got in his way or froze him to a wall ever again.

She had nearly left him to die in a blizzard. Would have, if Aang hadn't insisted they bring him back.

She wasn't supposed to be _ashamed _for trying to eliminate an enemy!

Iroh had finished his jook, and Katara had finished her healing, for now. She stood and gestured to the second bowl of jook beside Zuko. "Feed him, and try to get more water in him. I'll be back at midday to check his fever again."

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><p>Sokka and Aang were grooming Appa, the huge bison groaning in contentment. Aang waved energetically from his perch atop Appa's head. "Hi Katara!"<p>

She waved weakly back. Sokka, standing at Appa's front feet wielding a makeshift brush, eyed her with an unusually grim look. She wondered if he could read the conflict in her own expression or bearing. "Hey, Aang," Sokka called up to the younger boy, but his eyes didn't leave his sister's face, "I'm going to go look for more of that warty plant stuff you use to get the tangles out of Appa's fur."

"Mustard-wort," Aang corrected. "Okay!"

Sokka disappeared into the trees after one last significant glance at Katara. She sighed, too tired to fight with her brother's silly schemes. "I'm going to go make sure he actually knows what he's looking for," she told Aang. "Or else poor Appa might end up with poison-mandevilla vine all over."

"Oh, good idea," Aang said.

Katara found Sokka waiting for her a few steps into the woods. He jerked his head silently to indicate they should walk a bit farther away. She followed without argument. Once Sokka judged them far enough away, he turned to her with a serious expression. "Okay, what's wrong?"

Katara stared at her toes, trying to figure out what to say. For once, Sokka let her think. Finally, she asked, slowly: "Do you really think Zuko wasn't ever trying to hurt us?"

Sokka snorted. "Of course he was trying to hurt us." Katara glanced at him, surprised, but Sokka frowned and continued: "_But_ he was also trying not to hurt us too badly. I believe that."

"I almost left him to die in a blizzard," Katara whispered her shame. Sokka was quiet a moment. His hand went to her shoulder and squeezed.

"You can't feel guilty about that. He's a Prince of the Fire Nation. Our people are at war. He's hurt you, and me, and Aang, before. He's trying to capture Aang for his father. We're trying to stop him. You can't feel guilty because you tried to stop him."

Katara shook her head. "I wasn't just trying to stop him, Sokka, I was trying to kill him!"

"Because you know—everyone knows—that he doesn't just give up. He won't just give up and stop. Katara…" He trailed off, losing his words as she shook her head again, mouth set.

"You don't understand, Sokka. I _tried to kill him_. But just a few minutes ago, my hand was against his chest and I could feel his heartbeat. And I knew that I'd tried to stop that heart. It's… I'm just…" To her horror, she felt tears clog her throat. Sokka looked alarmed, but Katara gritted her teeth and fought the tears down. "He's feverish, delirious. When I checked his temperature today, he called me 'mom'."

Sokka flinched.

"I don't think I can ever try to hurt him again," Katara whispered. "I mean, really try. Not after… Not after this."

Her brother was quiet, looking pained. He blew out a sigh and tugged on his wolf-tail. "Okay," he said at last. "Okay. I think I get it. But Katara, do you really think he'll stop trying to capture Aang after this?"

"I don't know," she said, squeezing her eyes shut. "I really hope he does."


	4. Play Themselves Out

_Next chapter will be a little longer coming out. I have lots of real life things coming up, so I'm taking an extra week in posting chapter 5. My profile generally has expected times for updates; you can always check there for when something'll come out._

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><p><strong><span>Falling Slowly<span>**

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><p><strong>IV. Play Themselves Out<strong>

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><p>Iroh was outside with Aang and Sokka, conspiring with the two boys to make some face-numbingly spicy Fire Nation gloop for dinner. Katara was alone with Zuko.<p>

His wounds looked better, and his fever was lower, but he wasn't quite healed yet. Katara finished spreading the latest batch of beech-willow paste across Zuko's shoulder, and set the bowl aside to be taken out and cleaned later, along with Iroh and Zuko's dirty dishes from the previous meal.

She had noticed that Zuko's left hand and foot twitched and shook when she'd first seen him. She'd thought it was part of the shivering from his fever, but he wasn't shivering anymore and the tremors were still there. When she'd touched him with her healing water before, she'd felt the unbalance the burns had caused and sought to fix that. It wasn't until she'd delved back in with her waterbending that she felt what had been lying under the burn damage—an odd wrongness in his _chi_, like the ghost of the lightning that had struck him, flickering through him. His muscles shuddered and jumped with it.

Katara sat at his side and took his left hand into hers, water cupped in her palms. It started to glow as she pressed it into him, sliding into and within the blood, muscle, bones…

She was intent upon his hand, his arm, feeling her healing water flowing through, carrying away knots of wrongness, when she felt his arms suddenly tense. That was her only warning.

Zuko woke, not in the slow ascent from sleep as most people but in an abrupt and immediate rush. He was asleep, and then he wasn't.

He ripped his arm from her grasp with a harsh gasp, and was up and halfway across the ramshackle room in a blink. But he still wasn't completely healed, and that was as far as he got before he staggered and lurched, falling to his knees. He glared at her, though the effect was lessened by the way he blinked rapidly, clearly trying not to collapse.

"You!" he hissed. "What did you do to me?"

Katara's eyebrows rose, then lowered as she scowled. "What did _I _do? I healed you! Not that you deserved it, you jerk!"

"Healed…?" Zuko wavered, clearly unsteady on his feet, and a hand crept up to touch the wound on his chest. He stared at the beech-willow paste that came away on his fingertips. "What… Uhn."

Losing the battle, Zuko slumped, eyes sliding shut. Katara, unable to help herself, leapt forward to catch him before his head hit the ground. His eyes opened in slits and he managed: "Don't… touch… m-me…" before he went completely limp in her arms.

"_Idiot_," Katara hissed, furious and indignant. It was then that Aang, Sokka, and Iroh burst into the room, apparently having heard the commotion.

"Zuko!" Iroh exclaimed, rushing forward to help Katara maneuver the insensate prince back to the bedroll.

"Are you okay?" Sokka demanded of Katara. He dragged his gaze up and down her. "He didn't try anything, did he?"

"No," she spat. "He's just a big, horrible, ungrateful jerk!"

Sokka paused. "Ah."

"He woke up?" Aang asked, eyes wide. Katara growled in response and stalked past the boy Avatar.

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><p>They came out after her, eventually. Katara had seated herself by their cookfire and had availed herself of some of their… whatever it was they'd been cooking. Well, she knew one thing it was: spicy. She was scowling and her mouth was burning when they joined her.<p>

Iroh was with them, face lined with concern and thoughtfulness. He was the last person she wanted to see, beside Zuko.

The big jerk.

'_What did you do to me,' _indeed.

"Miss Katara," the old Fire Nation man said, bowing low. "Please accept my apology on behalf of my nephew. You have worked hard to heal him, even through we are your enemies. My nephew just… has difficulties with trust."

"He has difficulties with _everything_," Katara muttered. Iroh paused, and she knew he'd heard her. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he just looked thoughtful.

"You don't know how true that is," he told her, finally. Then he sighed. "I hope that he has not insulted you beyond bearing…?"

Katara was confused for a moment, then realized that what Iroh was really asking was: Are you too angry to continue healing him?

She felt a strange upwelling of emotions—too many and too tangled for her to know which ones—but she knew the end result. She scowled even harder and said: "No. I said I'd heal him, and I keep my promises."

"I think a better question is whether Zuko'll _let_ you heal him," Sokka pointed out.

"That is true," Iroh replied. "However, I am confident I can persuade him to accept your aid."

"If you say so," Katara said dubiously.

"In any case," Iroh continued, "I do think it may help the situation if you understood my nephew a little better. Understanding can often lead to peace."

Zuko was the antithesis of Katara, her opposite in every way. She was helping the Avatar, he was trying to capture him. She was good, he was evil. She was a waterbender, he bent fire. She wasn't sure there was much else to understand.

"I think that's a good idea," Aang said. "I mean, we know he's chasing us but we don't know why. I know he helped me escape Zhao, but I don't know why. And I don't know why he's so angry all the time. He… couldn't've been _born _like that, could he?"

"Indeed not, Zuko was a very cheerful baby." They all paused and stared at Iroh as they tried to reconcile 'cheerful' with 'Zuko'. The old man smiled, as if he knew what they were thinking.

"So what can you tell us about the Angry Jerk?" Sokka finally asked, rubbing his head as if trying to wrap his head around a cheerful Prince of the Fire Nation had given him a headache.

Iroh sobered quickly. He nodded. "Perhaps you will wish to be seated…"

Sokka and Aang sat down quickly next to Katara, as Iroh slowly lowered himself into a seat opposite them. He slowly folded his legs, and slowly braced his fingers together, and took a breath… and another… and another.

Aang shifted impatiently, and Iroh looked up. "Forgive me, this is not a story that is easily or lightly told."

The Avatar settled again, looking vaguely chastised. Iroh paused a moment longer, then sighed and said: "Prince Zuko wants very badly to prove himself to his father, Firelord Ozai…"

Katara felt a flash of anger at the name, but fought down the sneer as Iroh continued.

"But Ozai never particularly cared for Zuko. He nearly cast his son aside only hours after Zuko's birth, after declaring that the infant lacked the 'spark' that marked most who would grow to be firebenders. It took Zuko's mother and the Fire Sages to convince Ozai to let the infant prince be. And Ozai's disgust with his son only grew when it became evident that Zuko took after his mother in temperament. Ozai looked at Zuko's kindness as weakness, his compassion as a flaw. Azula, a firebending prodigy and as ruthless as her grandfather, was favored both by her father and the majority of the court." Iroh folded his hands into his sleeves. "When Zuko was eleven, something happened and his mother disappeared. I am not sure what transpired; I was away from the palace at the time, and Zuko will not speak of what he knows. The depth of my knowledge is that Firelord Azulon died, Ursa vanished, and Ozai was crowned Firelord in my place. There were many rumors, none of them kind. And Zuko was left under sole care of the father that despised him. When I returned to the palace several months later, he was… much changed from the boy I had known. He was impatient, reckless, and sought his father's approval with a nearly wild drive. I should have seen…" Iroh shook his head, casting away might-have-beens. "When Zuko was thirteen, he begged me to allow him into the war-room for one of his father's councils. He argued that, as the prince, son of the Firelord, he needed to begin taking part in the management of the nation, our military. He had a duty to our people. I gave in to the request. He wasn't wrong; however, his sense of duty toward our people led him into disaster.

"One of the generals proposed a plan that would have left a division of new recruits exposed to our enemies as a diversion while the bulk of our army hit a different target. The casualties for the recruits were projected to be high. Zuko saw this, and protested, saying that they could not sacrifice their people so casually, so cruelly.

"I had warned him not to speak in the war-room. I knew that my brother would not be forgiving. The outburst was the excuse Ozai needed. He claimed insubordination and demanded Zuko face an Agni Kai for the insult offered the general. Zuko accepted. But Zuko believed that it would be the _general_ he faced in the arena."

Katara's heart was beating faster and her mouth felt dry.

"But it wasn't the general, was it?" Sokka croaked. He looked as sick as she felt. Iroh shook his head grimly.

"When Zuko turned to face his opponent in the arena, it was his father who stood before him. How could he have fought? Zuko prostrated himself before Ozai, and begged forgiveness. He hadn't meant to give insult. He'd been thinking of the good of the people, the Fire Nation. Ozai demanded Zuko stand and fight. Zuko refused." Iroh's eyes closed, every wrinkle seeming to deepen on his face, as if he were aging decades right before them. "Ozai said 'You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher.' And then he laid his hand over Zuko's face…"

"_Stop_." Katara could hardly believe that voice was hers. Ragged as if torn from her, a sob more than anything. Iroh's hand drifted away from his left eye. Katara pressed her face into her palms. "_Please_," she said, muffled.

There was a long pause, and then Sokka's arms were around her and Iroh was saying, apologetically: "Forgive me, I forgot myself. You are so young, I should not have…"

Katara tuned out his words. Her nostrils were filled with the memory of burned flesh. She knew the scent intimately; her family's home had stunk of it for months after… After.

She'd hated the Fire Nation for what they'd done, what they'd taken from her, from her family. To imagine that the Firelord had taken the same things from his own son…

It changed everything. And she wasn't sure she wanted it to.


	5. Take This Sinking Boat

_As always, reviews are appreciated._

* * *

><p><strong><span>Falling Slowly<span>**

* * *

><p><strong>V. Take This Sinking Boat<strong>

* * *

><p>Considering what had happened the last time, Katara chose to have Iroh wake Zuko <em>before <em>she tried healing him. She didn't think he'd be quite so forgiving if he woke to find her using her waterbending on him again without permission. He might even try to bend at her this time.

He groaned as he swam out of sleep, his sluggish movements at odds with the swiftness with which he woke and moved previously. He had to have been in a significant amount of pain for it to affect him like that.

Katara waited patiently as Iroh continued to coax the prince into consciousness. Hopefully, if his uncle asked him to let her heal him, Zuko wouldn't react as… vehemently.

"Uncle?" Zuko asked, voice hoarse. He was probably thirsty.

"Yes, Prince Zuko," Iroh said, and put a gentle hand out to stop Zuko from moving. "Stay still; you were badly injured. What do you remember?"

"Azula," Zuko's fists clenched and he growled. "We fought… and she…"

He paused, and went rigid. "Uncle… Please tell me you _didn't _ally with the Avatar and those two Water Tribe peasants."

"This is a good sign, nephew!" Iroh said cheerfully. "Those injured by lightning sometimes had difficulty with memory, but you seem to recall matters easily enough."

Katara could almost hear Zuko's teeth grinding. She couldn't help but smirk.

As if the tilting of her lips had made a sound, Zuko's head snapped around to pin her with a glare. "You! What are you doing here?"

The smirk vanished. "What do you _think_?"

"No," Zuko snapped. His glare intensified, and then flicked to his uncle. "Absolutely not! There's no way I'm letting you near me with your waterbending!"

"Prince Zuko," Iroh started, tone placating.

"_No_, Uncle!"

"I promised your Uncle I'd heal you," Katara said. "I won't attack you. I keep my promises."

"Only when it's convenient for you!" Zuko snarled. Katara was taken-aback at the violence in his voice.

"What?"

"The South Pole! The very first words the Avatar spoke to me were a lie!"

Katara gaped. What was he—Oh. Aang had promised to go with Zuko if Zuko left the village unharmed. But only minutes later, Aang had blasted his way off Zuko's ship. With Katara and Sokka's help.

"So tell me," Zuko hissed at her, "why I should believe anything he says, or anything _you_, who holds the Avatar in such _high regard_, promise?"

Her heart was in her throat, a lump past which she needed to breath, swallow.

She had been painfully naïve, back then. Not so many weeks ago, but long miles. Halfway across the world, and Katara now knew how utterly foolish they had been. Aang had traded himself for the safety of the Tribe, and then they had broken their side of the deal while Zuko's ship had still been in view of the village. They'd never considered how easy it would have been for the slighted Fire Prince to turn around and aim his catapults.

But he hadn't. Even though they'd lied. Even though…

"We were scared," she whispered presently. "It's not an excuse for what we did, but it is an explanation."

"And you're _not_ scared anymore?" Zuko asked caustically. "I have no guarantee that you won't try to cripple me, or kill me, so that you don't have to worry about me coming after the Avatar ever again."

She'd thought nearly those same words, herself, before. But hearing him imply she wanted to kill him made it sound evil, wrong. Struck dumb, Katara just stared. Iroh cleared his throat, calling his nephew's attention back to him. "Miss Katara has been healing you for the past couple of days. If she had wanted to hurt you, she has already had ample opportunity. I believe you may trust that she will do as she says."

Zuko stared at his uncle with disbelief clear on his face, but Iroh did not falter. Finally, Zuko turned away from them both, fists tight, and he snapped: "Fine!"

Katara glanced at Iroh again, then at the old man's encouraging nod, shifted forward to Zuko's side. She felt her pulse speed up as she drew closer, half expecting the scarred boy to lash out with fire. But she knew that he was unlikely to try, with his uncle there watching him like a scorpion-hawk. Still, she was trembling a little as she wiped her palms nervously on her cloth-covered thighs.

"I'll… need your arm," she said quietly. For a long moment he didn't move. Then, without turning his face back toward her, he stiffly held his arm out. Katara tentatively wrapped one hand around his forearm.

His muscles were like rocks, his arm as tense as a fishing line after a bite. And there was a faint tremble that Katara could tell was not due to lingering lightning damage.

_He's afraid, too!_

Somehow, that reassured her. Using slow, gentle movements, she drew her water out and gloved her free hand with it. She laid that hand softly atop his arm, ignoring the flinch that rippled his skin at the contact. Her eyes closed and she sank into her water and her healing.

Within his veins, riding his blood and tracing the mantis-spider-web of his _chi_ paths, Katara could feel his tension in the rapid beat of his heart and the energy that flickered through his muscles. Slipping deeper into a meditative state, Katara listened carefully to him, looking for the natural rhythms of blood and bone so that she could better listen for the unnatural jags of damage in his system. It was different now that he was awake and aware of her presence, but she caught the rhythm quickly enough.

It didn't take much to finish the healing she'd begun the day before; the _chi _in his arm rushed through him like a river let free of a dam. Zuko gasped, and Katara left her healing trance to blink at him.

Zuko stared at his hand, flipping it over to look at palm and back. Then, with a tiny flick of his wrist, flame bloomed, cupped in his fingers.

Katara went very still.

He watched it burn for a moment, then curled the fingers over and snuffed it. Katara found she could breathe again.

"I need to do the same thing for your foot, where the lightning came out," she said. Zuko didn't make any protests, this time. He just nodded, still keeping his face turned from her, and stuck his leg, from the knee down, out from under the light blanket Iroh had laid carefully over him.

Katara scooted down to reach, cupping his heel in one hand and laying the other flat against the sole of his foot. He flinched, his whole leg jerking nearly out of her grasp. She tightened her fingers on his ankle. "Stay still!"

"Your hands are cold!" he snapped, shooting a dark look at her.

"You didn't complain with your arm!" she snapped back, glaring right back at him. He huffed, a little steam billowing out from between his lips, and turned away again. There was a bit of color high on his cheeks… Oh.

Katara forgot herself and gaped briefly. Zuko was ticklish! How utterly ridiculous. How…

Human.

The thought snapped her mouth shut and she turned her attention firmly on the task at hand. Drawing up water once more, she set her healing abilities to Zuko's foot.

She had to stop after a while, sweat standing out on her brow. Unlike the small scrapes and bumps she'd had to heal in the last couple of weeks, the damage to Zuko's body was extensive and required significantly more effort to set to rights. Already she had been working on him for several days, and he still wasn't completely healed.

Katara exhaled, long and slow, and let go of Zuko's foot. "I'll need another session to fully heal your foot, but right now I need to rest."

She hesitated, a little wary of putting her back to him, but eventually turned stiffly and walked out, tense and hyper-aware of every sound behind her. Even as she listened sharply for each breath, each tiny rustle of movement, when Zuko spoke it still made her startle.

"Thank you." It was quiet, subdued in a way Katara had never heard from the Prince. At the door, she swung around and stared at him. Zuko wasn't looking at her. His attention was focused on a handful of flame he held cradled in his palms. The light sparked in his gold eyes, threw shadows against his face that made his scar even more prominent.

Katara swallowed. She fled the broken building without responding.

* * *

><p>"Where are my brother and Aang?" Katara asked, frozen in place by the sight of Iroh, alone, fussing over a steaming pot. She hadn't heard him leave the room while she tended Zuko. She hadn't realized he could move so quietly.<p>

"Ah, Miss Katara," the old man said, looking up. "This is almost done brewing. Would you like to join me for a cup? It is one of my own blends."

Katara's feet brought her forward, responding to the kind serenity of his voice before she could think better of it. She sat, but still repeated her question. "Where are they?"

"I believe your brother said something about meat, while the young Avatar insisted they could find enough food by foraging," Iroh said, matter-of-factly. He set out two cups and gracefully, deftly, poured tea into both. He offered one cup in a formal two-handed gesture. Katara took it, holding it but not drinking from it yet. She stared into the sunshine-colored liquid, smelling the aroma of the tea and feeling her head whirl with thoughts and questions. Beside her, Iroh sipped his tea and sighed.

"The key to great tea is patience and dedication. It has taken me five years to perfect this blend! What do you think?"

Katara blinked at her cup, then tentatively raised it to her lips and sipped. The flavor was delicate and floral, made her think of spring on the tundra, when the snow-drop flowers bloomed and turned the barren ground into a new sea of tiny blue flowers.

Inexplicably, she began to cry.

"Ah," Iroh's voice filtered through her sobs, gentle. "Too much jasmine?"

Katara shook her head, tears still falling. "No," she managed. "S-sorry. I'm s-sorry, I…"

"Here, now," Iroh said, and pressed a square of cloth into her hands. "Will it help to tell an old man of your troubles?"

Katara was by then pulling herself back together, sniffling and dabbing her wet face with the cloth. Breath stuttering a little, she asked: "Why did you tell us? About Zuko's scar, why tell us that?"

She heard Iroh take a deep breath and lean back. His voice went softer, more solemn.

"It is well known that I have lost my taste for war," he said. "Perhaps I have also lost my taste for hate."

"Hate?"

Iroh hummed. "Do you know what conquers hate, Miss Katara?"

Her nose wrinkled and she frowned. "What, love?"

He chuckled gently. "Oh no, I wasn't thinking quite so poetically. Understanding, my dear. Where there is understanding, there can be no hate."

Katara tasted her tea again.

"My mother was killed in a Fire Nation raid."

It took her a moment to realize what she'd said. She hadn't intended on sharing that particular bit of information. She chanced a glance up. Iroh's face was lined and weary. He looked suddenly much older. Katara looked back into her tea cup.

"For so long, I hated the Fire Nation for that. And when Zuko came to the South… It was like that day all over again. The black snow, the ship, the armor; it was all the same. To me, Zuko was the face of the enemy." She traced her fingers over the rim of the cup, the tea inside gently swirling with her lazy, absentminded bending. "I didn't really think of him as a person who could be hurt. Who had been hurt."

"That is what makes hatred and war so easy," Iroh said. Katara nodded.

"I understand, now." A silence fell. Iroh refilled both their cups.

"I don't think I hate him, anymore," she said finally. "But… I'm still _mad _at him. Especially… How can he do what his father says after…"

"I have no answer for you," Iroh told her. "It is something I have often wondered as well. I think part of my nephew wants to believe that Ozai will love him if he captures the Avatar. But I also know Zuko, and while he is reckless, he is not an unintelligent young man. He must know the truth, even if he doesn't want to admit it."

"His father ordered him to capture the Avatar?"

Iroh sighed. "When Ozai burned and banished Zuko, he also proclaimed that Zuko could regain his honor if he returned with the Avatar in chains. It was… the subject of many jokes in the court."

"Jokes?" Katara frowned, not understanding.

"This was three years ago," Iroh reminded her. "Before you found and released Aang. This was after a hundred years of Sozin, Azulon, and Ozai himself searching. Of silence and fading hope from the rest of the world. It was believed that the Avatar cycle had been broken somehow, and that the World Spirit was truly dead and gone. Ozai might as well have told Zuko to catch the sun in a net."

Katara tried to imagine what it would feel like if her father had done something like that, and couldn't.

"What about his mom?"

"She disappeared when Zuko was eleven."

"Oh yeah, you said that before." Katara hesitated. "Is… Do you think she is dead?"

"That was one of rumors," Iroh admitted. "However, I can't help but hope she lives."

Katara was surprised to find that she hoped for the same.


	6. And Point It Home

_I'm well aware this isn't canon, but it is also my firm belief that it is in-line with Zuko's personality. He has his faults, but we also see him being selfless with regard to his people a number of times in the show and in the comics._

_Also, if anyone's wondering, the title comes from the song of the same name, by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irgolva. The chapter names are bits and pieces of the lyrics._

* * *

><p><strong><span>Falling Slowly<span>**

* * *

><p><strong>VI. And Point It Home<strong>

* * *

><p>"Katara. C'mon, Katara. Wake up!" Hands shook her shoulder lightly, then harder. Katara groaned and squinted her eyes open.<p>

"Mnn, Sokka? What's wrong?" Her brother leaned back, seeing her wake.

"Dinner's ready," he told her. "And Iroh said to wake you up because you'd need the food. And he thinks you wanted to have another healing session with the Angry Jerk."

Katara rubbed her face tiredly. She'd curled up in her bedroll to get a quick nap in, tired from her earlier healing session, trusting Iroh to organize her boys into making their evening meal. She was glad that they had managed it, but she was still tired. After her conversation with Iroh, her thoughts had whirled like a maelstrom and even though she had been tired enough to fall asleep, it had been an unquiet and restless sleep.

"Okay, okay, I'm up," she groaned, forcing herself upright. Bleary, she staggered toward the campfire, and accepted a bowl of food from Iroh. She more or less fell into a seated position on one of the cushions Aang had woven from leaves at some point while Katara was tending Zuko.

She stuffed the spoon into her mouth without looking at the contents of the bowl—something dense and rich with a hint of spice.

Katara looked down in surprise. Jook with egg stirred into it, and flakes of some sort of bark. "Where—?"

"Sokka found a pig-chicken nest!" Aang said. Sokka grumbled, shoveling food into his as quickly as he could. Katara looked at him, noticing the little details her sleep-hazed eyes had missed. By the scratches on his face and the rather ragged look to his wolf-tail, he'd managed to find the nest in his usual spectacular manner.

Katara watched in surprise as Aang tucked into his own bowl.

"I didn't know you were allowed to eat eggs, Aang," she said.

"Some of the monks don't," he admitted. "But Gyatso and the others said it's okay to eat the eggs that sow-hens lay that don't have chicks inside. Since they'd never hatch."

"Oh."

"Tea, Miss Katara?" Iroh asked, offering a cup. "It's ginseng; good for waking up the mind."

An "awake mind" was exactly what was causing her problems, but she was thirsty and liked the taste of ginseng so she accepted the cup. For a while, she tucked into her meal with a single-minded intensity that banished the shadows of her thoughts from her. Unfortunately, they came roaring back as soon as her spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl and she set it aside to find Iroh waiting patiently with another bowl in his hand.

"Are you going to heal my nephew more, now?" he asked. She nodded, trying not to grimace. "Will you take this to him?"

She accepted the bowl wordlessly. She could feel her pulse start to throb in her throat, heart beating harder as it always did in response to the prospect of facing Zuko.

She paused outside the dilapidated room, wondering if she should knock or something.

"Zuko?" she said. "I'm coming in."

There was no response. Katara stepped hesitantly inside, half expecting flames or harsh words. But the room was empty.

Katara stood for a long moment, blankly staring at the rumpled blanket lying abandoned on the thin bedroll that had been Zuko's sick bed. Where could he have gone? And how? This morning he'd been weak and his foot still injured. And she couldn't imagine he'd leave his uncle behind without a word. Her thoughts were just stuttering back into motion when he staggered into the room from the cracked, half-collapsed wall opposite the door.

He saw her, and scowled, and just like that she found her tongue. "_What _do you think you're _doing!"_

He reached the bedroll and sat down on it—more a fall than anything controlled—and scowled harder.

For a moment, Katara almost felt like she could bend fire, she was so angry. "You're not in any condition to be walking around! You've been fevered, and I haven't even finished healing your foot, and… are you _barefoot_? In the dirt? _Are you trying to get an infection_?"

"Don't pretend you care," Zuko muttered. Katara stiffened.

"I don't pretend," she said curtly. Zuko eyed her with an incredulous and suspicious glare.

"Am I supposed to believe you suddenly _don't _want me dead?"

Katara's nostrils flared as she drew in a sharp breath. There was a silence as Zuko assumed a vaguely smug expression—he probably thought he scored a hit… Which he had, if Katara was honest with herself.

"Yes," she said finally, voice clipped. "That is exactly what you're supposed to believe."

She was gratified to see confusion flicker across Zuko's face. He was a lot more honest in his expressions than Katara would have expected. She'd thought the scowl was permanent.

But the confusion didn't last long before he schooled his face back into his usual scowl, and he scoffed and turned away. Katara huffed, then sat herself down next to him. "Give me your foot."

He hesitated like he wanted to refuse, but apparently the draw of being fully healed—and he _knew _she could heal him, he'd seen it before, with his arm—proved to be too strong and he extended one grimy foot toward her.

Katara sniffed, taking a hold of his ankle and drawing water out of a nearby pot. She first swirled it around the appendage, cleaning the dirt from it, and then she gloved her hands in fresh water and bent to her task. As she concentrated on the frizzling feeling of _wrongness _in Zuko's leg, her focus narrowed until she even forgot that the blood and bone and twitching muscles in her hands were Zuko's. Her water glowed a soft blue and infused the skin under her palms, and slowly, slowly, the errant twitches of the muscles gentled, faded…

Katara's brow furrowed as she chased down the last lingering flickers of damage in Zuko's body, the pride she took in her bending spurring her to careful thoroughness.

She'd be lying if she said it hadn't occurred to her to heal Zuko _almost _completely, leaving just enough damage to ensure he wasn't the threat he had been in the past, but she'd dismissed the idea almost immediately. It felt wrong. Zuko couldn't defend himself against her healing. And, although he grumbled and sneered, he'd given himself into her keeping, trusting her.

Sighing, Katara released her bending—as it had before, the freshly healed flesh drank up the water she'd been using, replacing all the fluids it had lost from the injury and the resultant illness.

Zuko flexed his foot, and Katara let go of it in a hurry, startled by the sudden movement. She watched Zuko curl and uncurl his toes, rotate his ankle. His muscles shifted smoothly under his skin, no longer twitching and straining.

He let out a slow breath, and Katara felt a twinge of discomfort at how it shook a little. Relief at being healed, or relief that she hadn't buried a metaphorical knife in his back?

"Your wounds are healed," she said, forcing a brisk note to her voice. "But you're still recovering from the illness, and the healing. Your body has had to use a lot of energy, so you need to rest and replenish it. That means _no getting up_, unless you really have to. And if you do, have your uncle help you. Also, you'll need to eat a lot…"

She grabbed the bowl of egg-fortified jook she'd set aside earlier, when she'd been reprimanding him, and stopped. "Oh. It's gone cold…"

Evidently, she'd been in her healing 'trance' for longer than she'd thought. Zuko snorted.

"Like that's a problem for me," he said, holding out a hand imperiously. Katara gave him a dirty look, but handed the bowl over. She watched, maybe a trifle warily, as he cupped the bowl in both hands and furrowed his brow. There was no outward sign of what he was doing, at least not right away, but as Katara watched, the jook started to bubble thickly, slowly, and steam started to rise from it.

"What?" Zuko asked sharply. She blinked; she'd been staring.

"I…" she made a little gesture. "It's just, I've never really seen firebending like that. Without flame. Only your uncle and you."

"Fire is life, heat is life," Zuko muttered, obviously insulted. "It's the reason I survived the swim into the North Pole; firebending kept me warm. It's not always flames and violence."

"That's the only part of it I've been shown," she told him. His good cheek went red, and he turned his face so that all she saw was his immobile scar and not the expression on the other half.

Oddly, it made her feel better. Or perhaps not so odd; it meant he could see that this was something to be ashamed of.

But if he could _see _that, then…

"Why?"

Zuko's head turned back to her. "Why what?"

She hadn't meant to say it out loud. But since she had, she wasn't going to back down. She squared her shoulders. "Why are you trying to capture Aang?"

Zuko's face instantly became stormy. "I need to, to restore my honor."

Katara frowned. "_Why_? I mean, why would you even bother trying to go back? It's not like your family treats you well."

Zuko's expression became, if possible, even darker. "When Father finds out Azula nearly killed me, he'll be angry."

Katara gaped, astonished. Did he really believe that? "Zuko, your father _burned half your face off_."

For a moment, Katara didn't understand why Zuko looked suddenly blank. Then she realized that he hadn't known Iroh had told them the story behind his scar. And it didn't look like he appreciated it.

"What did you say?" he asked in a voice cold, precise, level. Katara licked suddenly dry lips.

"I…"

"You have _no right_," Zuko snarled. "You know nothing about my father—"

"Your father abused you!" Katara said, aghast that he as trying to defend the man. "He permanently scarred you—and if you have complete vision in that eye, I have an island in the Earth Kingdom to sell you—and he cast you out, and he set up this whole Avatar hunt as _cruel false hope_. All because you had the audacity to point out that a stupid, horrible plan was stupid and horrible! You _can't _honestly expect him to welcome you back just like that!"

She was standing now, tears streaming down her face, fists clenched, voice raised and cracking. "You can't honestly tell me he wouldn't approve of what Azula did."

"You don't understand!" Zuko grated. His own fists were clenched and tiny wisps of smoke were rising from them. "You don' t_ get it_. I have to play his game! I _have _to restore my honor. I am still a Prince of the Fire Nation! I have a blood right to the throne! _I have to be crown prince_!"

"Is that all you care about?" Katara cried. "Your _throne_? You're doing all this because you just _want to be Fire lord_!"

Zuko was on his feet, too. "You don't know_ anything_!" he shouted at her. "What am I supposed to do? Turn my back on my people?"

"What's going to stop your father or Azula from killing you when you go back?" Katara shouted back. "You're doing this for your people? How does _walking right to your own death _help them at all?"

"How does doing nothing at all help them?" There was fire dancing around Zuko's clenched fists now, but Katara didn't back down. She was so furious and frustrated and _appalled _she had no room in her for fear of him. Zuko didn't make any move toward her anyway, standing rigidly with twists of flame flaring all around him. "You know my father scarred me? Do you know _why_? Do you have any idea why I was even in that Agni Kai to begin with? Because I was trying to be a _good prince_. Because I was trying to _protect my people_. No one else was arguing against the general's plan; every one was just accepting the idea of sacrificing hundreds of our soldiers for no good reason. _Not even my uncle spoke against it_. No one but me spoke up, and I was _burned and banished_ as a result. Do you think, after that, anybody else would chance it? _Two hundred and five new recruits died for that plan and I couldn't stop it. _And I haven't stopped any other plans that would hurt or sacrifice my people because I'm not allowed in Fire Nation territory anymore. _I couldn't stop the North Pole_. Five full ships of men lost because my father gave _Zhao _control of our fleet. So, I _will _capture the Avatar. I _will _return to the Fire Nation, I _will _get back everything I lost. And I will do what I can to save what I can of my people. What else can I do?

"What else can I do?" Zuko repeated, breath shuddering in his chest. Tears pricked Katara's eyes. She had wondered why Zuko seemed to be following his father's wishes. She hadn't ever imagined the reason wouldn't just be a selfish desire to go home, but also a _selfless_ desire to...

"Join us," she whispered before she could reconsider. Her voice was hoarse. "Aang will defeat your father. He _will_, I know it. Join us. Help us. Save your people by bringing balance back to the four elements."

Zuko's face went completely blank. For a long moment, he just stared at her, and she stared back. Then, very slowly, he said: "I think you should leave now."

His voice was so flat and empty that Katara felt cold. "Zuko…"

"LEAVE," he roared. Katara span around and ran for the door.

Sokka, Aang, and Iroh were standing in the doorframe, identical expressions of shock on their faces. Katara didn't even stop, merely muscled through them and out into the gathering dark.

* * *

><p>"Katara, wait—!" Aang bounded after her. As he left, Iroh spoke tentatively:<p>

"Prince Zuko…"

"GET OUT, ALL OF YOU!" Zuko's voice was wild, and punctuated with a flare of fire that sent Iroh and Sokka ducking back out the door. Sokka took the hint, and hurried after his sister and Aang. Iroh hesitated, peering inside at the trembling form of his nephew.

Zuko nearly threw himself onto his bedroll, and buried his head in his hands. As his left hand pressed against his scar, he jerking it back, and stared at it for one long lingering moment…

Iroh could see his fingers press into the stubble of hair covering his scalp as Zuko bent forward, cradling his ruined face, and cried, great wrenching sobs and gasps for breath that shook his whole body.

The former general was torn. He wanted, of course, to go and comfort Zuko, but he knew his nephew well enough to know that Zuko would only react to his presence with violence and anger at this moment. Fury, and the young waterbending girl, had ripped away the walls Zuko had placed within himself, the walls that kept him from acknowledging the truth about his father.

Part of Iroh ached for the pain that must sting Zuko's spirit. Another part glowed with pride for Zuko's dedication to his people. It was a trait Iroh feared Ozai had burned out of Zuko, literally. It was good to see proof that Ozai's cruelty had not ruined the compassionate, conscientious boy Iroh had known Zuko to be.

But that side of him seemed still in peril. Iroh knew that returning to Ozai's sphere of influence would bleed even more goodness from Zuko, but Zuko's fierce desire to go back to the Fire Nation, to return home, and that hopeless desire to try to win some little measure of Ozai's approval and love, might push him to risk it. Not that Zuko knew what, exactly, he was risking.

There was a very real possibility that Ozai or Azula would still find some way to brush Zuko to the side, strip him of any power. Returning with the Avatar did not guarantee Zuko would be able to protect anyone. Judging from how he raged at the girl, and how hopelessly he wept now, he was well aware of this fact. What he likely didn't recognize was the danger to his _self _that Ozai represented. Iroh wasn't so prideful that he couldn't admit his personal shame at the spineless, powerless man he had become after he'd returned home and found his brother on the throne. Zuko had been right; Iroh had not spoken against the general's plan that day in the war council. And he hadn't spoken against any of the similar plans that had been brought up in the councils preceding that one. He should have, but he'd allowed Ozai to win. Looking back, Iroh could recognize the small things Ozai had done—the word choices, the little hints—to press him down, keep his mouth shut. Zuko was young, and Ozai was his father as well as his sovereign; he would not withstand Ozai's miasma.

With a grim face, Iroh settled himself against the outside wall of the dilapidated building, holding vigil as Zuko cried himself into a restless doze.


	7. Raise Your Hopeful Voice

_Thanks for the reviews on the previous chapter. Much obliged._

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><p><strong><span>Falling Slowly<span>**

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><p><strong>VII. Raise Your Hopeful Voice<strong>

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><p>Katara crashed through the forest blindly, hardly knowing <em>why <em>she was running, only that she desperately wanted to do _something_. She stopped when a root tripped her and she went sprawling.

Panting for breath, she rolled over onto her back, and stared at the waxing gibbous moon through the canopy of leaves above her. She barely felt the pain in her hands and knees from hitting the ground, but even so, as she lay there, limbs and heart throbbing, tears began to form in her eyes. She clasped her hands over her mouth to muffle the sobs building in her chest.

_You're crying over him again_, the quiet corner of her mind called Reason observed.

_He's broken, _said Emotion, _the Prince of his nation, and his father broke him._

Katara's hands curled into fists, but remained pressed to her mouth.

_How can we fight someone so cruel? How can we win against someone who doesn't care how many people die, or who he hurts, as long as he gets what he wants? _whispered Fear.

But that was exactly why they had to fight him. Firelord Ozai was not just a threat to the Water Tribes and Earth Kingdom, he was a threat to his own people. He was a power-mad bully who didn't care a whit for anyone but himself. He had to be stopped.

"_Ka-ta-ra!_"

She sat up and rubbed the tears from her face quickly as Aang's voice drew closer.

"_Ka-ta-raaaa!"_

"I'm over here, Aang!" she called back, and winced at how husky her voice was from crying. She hoped, as Aang came crashing through the bushes toward her, that it was dark enough that he wouldn't see the evidence of tears on her face.

"Found you!" Aang said as he brushed aside the last few branches. "Are you okay?"

Katara didn't feel equipped to answer that. Instead, she asked a question of her own: "How much did you guys hear?"

"Well," Aang said, embarrassed, "we came running when we heard you guys shouting…"

"So you heard most of it," she sighed. "I'm sorry, Aang. I know you don't like it when people fight..."

"Fight?" Aang echoed, surprised. "Katara, you weren't fighting with Zuko. You were trying to help him. I could never be upset with you about that."

"Yeah, but—" Katara looked at the ground, frowning. "It _felt _like we were fighting."

"You did make him cry," Sokka jumped into the conversation as he stumbled out of the trees to join them. Katara's eyes widened.

"I _what_?"

Sokka brushed leaves from his hair. "I heard him, before I came to find you."

"I-I didn't… That wasn't what I…" Katara fumbled. "I made him cry? Really?"

"Sobbing," Sokka confirmed. He shook his head. "It's weird, you know? He's not supposed to cry. He's supposed to be all 'grr, give me the Avatar.'"

"He's supposed to be a lot of things that he's not," Katara said sadly. "And he's a lot of things that he's not supposed to be."

Sokka eyed her. "If he tries to capture Aang again, are you going to be able to fight him?"

"I…" Katara hesitated, tried to imagine lashing out with a water whip, tried to imagine freezing limbs into ice, tried to imagine bruising and breaking skin. But all she could think about was his pulse, rapid with fear, under her fingertips. She whispered: "No. I couldn't, no."

"Maybe he won't be able to either," Aang said before Sokka could reply. When the siblings looked at him, he explained: "All this time he hasn't really been trying to hurt us anyway. And now that we've tried to help him, now that Katara's healed him, I don't think it'll be easy for him to fight us at all."

"I hope you're right," Sokka said, but there was doubt in his tone.

"So do I," Katara said. "But… He… he really wants to go home. And he thinks bringing his father Aang is the only way he can."

"I don't know," Aang said. "You guys weren't there, when he rescued me from Zhao."

"He only rescued you because _he _has to be the one to capture you," Sokka told the younger boy. But Aang shook his head.

"No. I mean, I know, but he let me go after we escaped."

"He… what?" Sokka asked in disbelief.

"Well, it was a little more complicated than that," Aang said. "See, he got knocked out when we were escaping, and I couldn't just leave him there, so I dragged him into the forest and hid while Zhao's soldiers were looking for us. Then when he woke up, I told him about my friend Kuzon, who was Fire Nation, and asked if he thought _we _could be friends, because he reminded me a lot of Kuzon, you know, except Kuzon wasn't—"

"Aang," Katara said, touching his shoulder. He gave her a sheepish smile.

"Sorry. Anyway, Zuko let me go. Well, he did shoot a fireball at me after I asked if we could be friends, but when I ran away he didn't try to follow. He just let me go."

They were silent a moment, absorbing that. Then Sokka shook his head. "I don't know what that's supposed to mean. But it doesn't matter. If Zuko's not on our side—and he says he's not—it's not safe to hang around him. As soon as Katara's done healing him, we should get out of here. Zuko's got his uncle; they'll be fine."

Katara bit her lip. She _was_ done healing Zuko, but… But it didn't feel right to leave them. They were all alone—Zuko's sister had tried to kill him, and it was a safe bet that he'd be arrested immediately if other Fire Nation soldiers found him. And the Earth Kingdom would be about as welcoming. Zuko didn't have his ship anymore, so he couldn't just sail into neutral waters. He and Iroh were trapped between the two armies.

She couldn't tell Sokka that she was done healing Zuko. They still needed help. It would be wrong to abandon them.

"Iroh's on our side," Aang said. "Maybe he can help persuade Zuko?"

"Just because Iroh tried to save the moon spirit doesn't mean he's on our side," Sokka said.

"But—"

"Look, I know you want to believe in the good in people, but right now it's too dangerous. If the Fire Nation captures you, everyone fighting will lose hope. We can't hang the world on the hope that someone _might _turn good." Sokka folded his arms.

"Sokka…" Katara started, seeing Aang wilt. Her brother rounded on her.

"No Katara, I'm not going to sugar-coat this. I'm not going to pretend it's okay. We're talking about trusting _the Prince of the Fire Nation _here."

She hesitated. "Fine. Fine, you're probably right. Just give me a couple more days, then we'll leave."

"Yeah, okay," Aang agreed with obvious reluctance when Sokka turned an expectant look on him. The Water Tribe youth let out a relieved sigh.

"Good. Okay. Now, let's get back and get some sleep."

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><p>Zuko lay on his bedroll, curled slightly on his side, back facing the door. He did not move aside from the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, but Iroh knew he was awake. Firebenders rose with the sun, and Zuko wasn't sick anymore, so the stirring of his inner fire in response to sunrise would have roused him.<p>

Still, Zuko lay motionless and silent. He must be aware of Iroh's presence—Iroh hadn't tried to move quietly when he roused, himself—but he didn't acknowledge it. Iroh allowed his nephew the silence. He didn't mind it; it was a welcome reprieve from the angry shouting that had characterize Zuko since his banishment, or the broken sobbing that had torn at Iroh's heart last night.

It also gave Iroh a moment in which to meditate and pull his own thoughts together before trying to help Zuko address his. With a deft flick of one finger, Iroh lit the small nub of candle that he had been using the last several days for just this purpose, and settled in front of it in an Open Lotus position—fitting, he thought with some weary amusement. Placing his hands on his knees and closing his eyes, Iroh sank into the space between his thoughts.

One might expect the corners of a firebender's mind to be full of flames, and for some firebenders this was true. But the space between Iroh's thoughts was filled with warm breezes and lush leaves—an echo of the palace gardens where he had joyfully spent so much time with his son when Lu Ten was young.

Iroh shouldered through the tranquility the echoes instilled in him, and sank deeper.

It had been a while since he had felt the need to traverse into the Spirit Realm, but he had questions that needed to be answered.

The darkness behind his eyelids bloomed into full color, as Iroh slipped across the border of Mortal and into Spirit. A quick glance around helped give him his bearings, though the sense of peace and stillness that hung in the flower-scented air told him everything he needed to know.

Iroh turned and bowed deeply to the serene presence behind him. "Avatar Roku."

"Well-met, brother of my grand-daughter's husband," the white-haired Fire Avatar greeted, inclining his head. "I had not expected to see you again so soon."

"Circumstances have changed," Iroh said. "And I felt the potential benefits well out-weighed the risks of my coming here."

"My great-grandson has found trouble again," Roku said, nodding.

"Zuko has a dragon's heart," Iroh said, "but even a strong heart may be injured beyond bearing. I must ask once again that I be allowed to tell him what is in his blood. I understand the need for Zuko to choose his own path, but his father and sister have blinded him toward hope. He doesn't see all his choices."

"You think that, if he knew, it would open his eyes?" Roku asked. "That he would find hope in my successor, as you have?"

"It has been many years since Ursa's disappearance. While Zuko has not forgotten her, he has forgotten that he is as much her son as he is his father's. He has forgotten that he has the capability of goodness in him, and that goodness has strength equal to that of cruelty."

Roku nodded along, eyes closed, hands folded into his voluminous sleeves.

"Zuko's injuries extend to his spirit," Roku agreed after Iroh finished. "But you give him too little credit, for all that you recognize his dragon's heart. He is not so fragile as to be crippled by indecision. And he is not so damaged as to lose sight of his options. Whichever path he chooses, it must be his choice."

Iroh tilted his head forward slightly, dismay and disappointment beginning to bud in his heart.

"You still doubt him. Why?" Roku asked. Iroh shook his head.

"Would you call it doubt, to be unwilling to let a wounded soldier fight against a powerful enemy alone?" he asked.

"Herding Zuko like a panda-sheep toward one choice or the other does him no favors." Roku said. "No. Do not tell him of our shared blood for now. His choice will soon be made. After he sets his foot upon his path—whichever it may be—you may tell him."

"I understand," Iroh said. "I will abide by your wishes, Avatar Roku."

"Iroh," the spirit said. "Zuko will never be alone. Not as long as he remembers his mother, and not as long as your proverbs echo in his ears even in your absence."

Iroh bowed low, and the colorful world of the spirits drained away from him.

* * *

><p>Iroh returned from the Spirit Realm and opened his eyes to find Zuko sitting up on his bedroll, legs crossed and hands limp in his lap, eyes staring blankly at the ground.<p>

"Prince Zuko. Did you sleep well?" Iroh managed to ask. There was a long beat of silence, then Zuko asked, slowly:

"She is right, isn't she? My father doesn't want me back. Will never want me back."

Iroh hesitated, tried to find some reassurance that wouldn't be a lie… But Zuko read the truth in his silence, and his eyes flickered, returned to the ground.

"Why am I so weak? Why am I so _useless_?" Zuko's fists clenched.

"Prince Zuko," Iroh said, alarmed. "You are not weak, and you're certainly not useless! There isn't… My brother's inability to love anything but power, or anyone but himself does _not _reflect your worth—"

"Azula tried to kill me. Mom left me. Dad hates me…" Zuko listed flatly. His dulled eyes lifted to Iroh's face. "Uncle? Why did you come with me when I was banished?"

"I think you know why I came with you," Iroh said gently.

"Do you regret it?" Zuko's voice was small.

Iroh seized Zuko in a fierce hug, tears trickling into his beard. "Never. Never. You have always been like a son to me. I could never regret supporting you."

Zuko's arms rose hesitantly to return the embrace.

"Am I doing the right thing?"

Iroh's grip tightened. "No one can tell you how to live your life, Prince Zuko. You must only do what feels right to you."


End file.
